"Do we really have to find them?" one knight sighs, like it's a chore.
"Yes, yes we do." The lead knight replies with grim certainty.
"But technically they haven't done anything wrong." A third chimes in.
"GODDAMNIT BRIAN! We just have to find them.
"Again, I am NOT Brian."
The lead knight's horse snorts, uneasy.
Something in the air feels… off.
The knight reins it in, eyes scanning the tree line. Birds scatter above, too suddenly. Leaves twitch without wind. The bright moon filers pale through the canopy, casting long, uncertain shadows.
They're close.
He can feel it.
"Spread out," he mutters. "Eyes sharp."
The others nod, dismounting in silence. Boots crunch over underbrush. Armor clinks. Hands hover near hilts.
A strange stillness hums through the forest, like the woods are holding its breath.
Then—a flicker of movement.
Ahead. Through the bush.
A flickering campfire. Three figures beside it.
One with pale pink hair. Sitting cross-legged and still as stone.
Another, antlered and twitch, halfway through chewing on something nervously.
And the third—tall, already watching them with narrow eyes, as if he'd known they'd arrive.
They've found them.
At last.
"God damnit, they got a third??"
--------------------------------------------------------
The ranger, watching the woods, relaxes slightly.
Not the thread he'd been expecting.
"A knight brigade approaches. Their posture suggests hostility."
"don't worry about them," the pink-haired boy replies, calm as ever.
"O-oh n-no… d-did we do s-something w-wrong?" The dog-boy stammers, ears up, tail puffed out like a scared cat.
The ranger narrows his eyes. "Unclear. Could be a bounty. Or routine suspicion. The fire was… Not a tactful decision."
He flicks his gaze between the other two.
"…You are not fugitives, correct?"
"W-what o-of course not—" The dog-boy whimpers.
"what's a 'fugitive'?" The pink-haired boy asks, with total seriousness.
This time, the other two ignore his question.
"I told you we should've hidden the fire better…." The dog-boy whispers, visibly wilting.
"They were going to find us anyway," The pink-haired boy says, voice steady. He stretches one leg out, leans back on his hands. Unbothered. "They're not quiet."
"Wh-Yes we are!" someone shouts from the woods, and immediately gets shushed.
The ranger sighs. "We have approximately thirty seconds before someone makes a foolish decision."
The pink-haired boy tilts his head toward him. "You or them?"
He doesn't answer.
A bush cackles. A nervous young knight stumbles into view, sword raised. His armor is too shiny. His voice cracks. "S-stand down! I-uh-we have you surrounded!"
"Do you?" The pink-haired boy replies.
Behind the knight, a second figure pushes through—older, more commanding. Their actual leader. He sees the fire, the seated trio, and tenses like he's staring down a bear trap.
"You there!" he calls. "By order of the Kingdom Guard, you are to come with us for questioning!"
"Specify the charges," The ranger says flatly.
A pause.
The lead knight looks briefly at his companions, then clears his throat.
"Suspicious behavior! Sudden disappearances! Sightings of magic use without license! Destruction of… public property!"
The pink-haired boy blinks. "We punched one dragon."
"You slapped it," the dog-boy mumbles.
"Still." The pink-haired boy shrugs. "It was only one."
A moment of silence.
"You slapped a dragon?" one of the knights repeat, confused
"It flew away," another mutters.
The dog-boy buries his face into his hands.
The leader regains composure, teeth clenched. "Whatever it is you're involved in—whatever strange band you are—we're bringing you in."
"Hm," the boy hums. "No."
And before anyone can react, he stands up.
Effortless. Fluid. Dangerous.
The knights tense. Someone whispers, "That's the one. That's the one that hit it."
The dog-boy steps back instinctively, tail curling behind him "Wh-what...?"
"Not fighting," the pink-haired boy says. "Just leaving."
And he takes one step forward.
It's enough.
The lead knight draws his sword—fast, but not fast enough.
Before the blade clears the sheath, an arrow is aimed at his throat.
The ranger is already there.
Silent, sudden, bow drawn, arrow notched with surgical precision.
He speaks, voice calm. Deep. Void of emotion. Almost polite.
"I would strongly advise immediate withdrawal," he says calmly.
The leader freezes.
"W-we have you outnumbered!" the leader says, panic creeping into his voice.
"incorrect," The ranger replies.
A pause
"…what?"
"You are not accounting for the dog."
The dog-boy whimpers. "C-can we not do this?"
"We're not starting this," the pink-haired boy says, walking past them. "They showed up."
The ranger slowly lowers his bow. "Hostilities averted. Our stance is now neutral."
The knights watch, stunned, as the trio simply walks away. Right between their lines. Like the threat never mattered.
But before they can get far--
"Halt!" the lead knight yells, his hands shaking on the hilt of his sword.
The knights scramble to surround them again.
"W-we're g-going to jail, aren't we?" the dog-boy asks.
Silence.
"…Jail?" the lead knight echoes, confused.
"Is containment not your intention?" The ranger asks without blinking.
"Why would we bring you to jail?" the lead knight asks, visibly sweating.
"He just doesn't want to file the paperwork." One knight mutters.
"Yeah, so we just wanted to bring you to station to question you all, making it easier for us." The young knight finishes.
The pink-haired boy pauses mid-step.
"Oh."
He tilts his head. "Didn't know what 'jail' meant. Sounded bad"
Then, glancing back, he asks, "So why all the yelling and swords?"
"P-protocol!" the lead knight snaps. "We were—intimidated!"
"…Huh."
He turns to the others. "They were intimidated."
The ranger lowers his head slightly, unimpressed. "Understandable."
The dog-boy, tail still tucked, peeks between them. "S-so… we're not in trouble?"
"No," one of the knight sighs. "Well. Probably not."
"But you do still have to come with us," the leaders says, trying to sound commanding again. But it mostly comes out sheepish.
The pink-haired boy shrugs. "Alright."
"W-wait, that's it?" The dog-boy blinks.
"You'd rather go to jail?" The boy asks.
"…N-no…"
The ranger shoulders his bow, silent but compliant. "It is tactically acceptable."
And so, the trio walks—flanked awkwardly by a half-circle of knights who no longer seem sure if their "suspects" are dangerous or just weird.
One knight leans in toward another. "Should we bind their hands?"
"Are you volunteering to try?"
"…No."
They leave them unbound.
The dog-boy walks hunched, ears flat. He keeps glancing at every bird, bush, or unexpected twig crack like it's planning to jump him.
The ranger walks with measured steps, gaze always scanning. His sheer presence prevents small talk.
The pink-haired boy just strolls casually, hands in his pockets like he's on a nature walk.
One knight can't help but whisper, "He really did slap a dragon?"
"Yes. I was there," another replies, haunted.
The ranger glances sideways. "I've been meaning to ask," he says, looking at both the knights and the boy. "Did he truly slap a dragon?"
"Yes, that's what we've been saying this whole time!" a knight huffs.
"Could be a metaphor. 'Dragon' as in… a metaphorical pest."
A knight stares at him, then turns helplessly to a peer.
The ranger turns to the pink-haired boy. "So. You're actually quite powerful."
"Wouldn't know." The boy says. "I just woke up. Didn't even know dragons were hard to slap"
And so, the trio continues toward the village, flanked by uncertain knights, a few whispered theories , and the slowly dawning realization:
This may not be a normal group of travelers.